


Swords Dance

by KelpieChaos



Series: Dick-or-Treat 2019 [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, handjobs, he's so sick of Reishi but Reishi just wants to do Fun Things with his favorite subordinate, in which Saru is a spiteful bitch and yet still gets off, no one can resist Reishi's charm; not even Saru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 10:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18386675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KelpieChaos/pseuds/KelpieChaos
Summary: It started as a fairly normal training session between two of the best swordsmen in Scepter 4. It didn’t quite end that way.





	Swords Dance

For once, Fushimi would rather be at his desk, pretending to work. At least there he could slack off, no matter what Awashima told him to do. But here? On the training grounds across from the Captain with their swords at the ready? Not a chance, not if he didn’t want to be put on his ass in less than a second. And if he didn’t put a least a little effort in, then Munakata would keep them there until he was satisfied he was participating enough. Which could take hours.

Really it was just not worth the effort to slack off.

“Are you sufficiently prepared, Mr. Fushimi?”

Munakata’s voice was nearly lazy, and if Fushimi didn’t know how excited the Captain got at sparring then he might have believed it. Clicking his tongue, he shifted his balance, testing the dirt under him. It wasn’t a muddy disaster anymore from the rain yesterday, but it still squelched rather unpleasantly under his feet. If they managed to avoid becoming mud covered messes, it would be a miracle.

“I suppose, sir.” Not that it mattered much. He fully expected this to be a fast bought, regardless of any prep he might do.

“Then on your move.”

Great, Munakata was letting him go first. That was more troublesome than just defending against his assault. Maybe he could get one of his knives out fast enough he could actually get a hit in. Maybe Munakata had already planned out this entire fight and just wanted to know which version of his plan he’d end up using.

That was probably it. Fantastic. Why couldn’t have he picked one of the others for his games?

…Might as well get this over with.

Fushimi exploded forwards, charging Munakata directly. Munakata just stood there, smiling serenely at his subordinate, relaxed and calm. That was fine for Fushimi; it meant his plan had fractionally more chance of working.

Blue aura had sheathed his blade, and he let it build as he got closer. At the last second, right as Munakata went to sidestep him, Fushimi flared the energy red, letting it reach out to catch at Munakata’s arm in an irregular arc instead of the smooth line the blue would have been.

A fast gleam of blue meant Munakata blocking the red, but Fushimi had already skidded to a stop not quite behind him, sending paired blades at Munakata’s heels. If he was lucky, he could get the Captain just off balance, and maybe get another press in. If he was really lucky, the Captain would even only barely manage to block it.

Munakata did step forward. And then gracefully spun, the bastard, hilt of his sword out just far enough Fushimi had to move fast to avoid an unfortunate hit to the sternum. Which quickly turned into him ducking a smooth swipe of the Captain’s blade, trying to get out of his range without falling on his ass.

Which, of course, didn’t work.

Two more steps back, trying to parry the next swipe, and Fushimi felt his foot pulled out from under him. Landing hard on his back, he rolled with the momentum just in time to avoid the next swipe. Damn, this was his last clean coat. He came up to his feet and immediately lunged to the side, once again narrowly avoiding his Captain’s glittering sword. He took off along the edge of the training grounds, Munakata on his heels.

“Is that all, Mr. Fushimi? I have to say I expected more from you.”

God damn him, he didn’t even sound out of breath. And he wanted more? Fine.

Fushimi’s sword was still out and in his hand, somehow. He sheathed it. It would only get in the way of his plan. The edge of the training grounds was coming up, with the observation seating empty. Not that it mattered. Fushimi launched himself up the front fence, using it to propel himself over and behind Munakata. He threw two more knives, hearing them clatter off Munakata’s blade. Landing, he twisted his momentum to sweep a leg out under Munakata.

And hit him.

“Oof!”

Fushimi had never heard the Captain make such an undignified noise before, but he couldn’t relish it, busy as he was trying to avoid being landed on. Which, in line with the rest of his shoddy luck, he didn’t manage.

Munakata landed squarely on his legs, pinning him on his back with his Captain’s face not two inches from his hips. Munakata was breathing heavier than usual, to Fushimi’s surprise, and directly on a fairly sensitive section of his body, _much_ to his dismay. He could feel the warm huffs through his pants, and no amount of squeezing his eyes shut and thinking through code was helping.

“Sir,” he gritted out, “if you don’t mind _getting the fuck off me_?”

“Oh. I apologize, Mr. Fushimi. Did my fall harm you?”

The calm response had just a shade of humor, and Fushimi snarled blindly in his Captain’s direction.

But of course Munakata didn’t move, and he’d probably use the defense that he didn’t want to aggravate any injuries unduly, if asked.

Fushimi really needed him to _move_ already, preferably _before_ he noticed Fushimi’s rising issue.

“No, but-“

“Ah, what’s this?”

…Fushimi was going to die. He was going to _kill_ Munakata and then himself. Why couldn’t have Munakata just fucking moved?

“That, _sir_ , is a fairly standard reaction of male genitalia that I would _assume_ you know of, unless you are, _in fact_ , inhuman, as the rumors go.”

That might have been more rude than necessary but the amount Fushimi cared had hit zero approximately five minutes after the fight started and had only gone negative from there.

And _finally_ Munakata was getting off him.

Only to settle his weight more firmly across his hips.

Fushimi cursed, snapping his open to see Munakata grinning smugly down at him from where he was pressing his own _standard reaction_ into Fushimi’s.

“I would say I am passingly familiar with this reaction, yes. I would also say I am familiar with the standard solution, as well.”

Was Munakata _flirting_? Is this was passed as _flirting_ in his weird sanctum addled mind?

More to the point, was he really offering to get Fushimi off _in the middle of the training grounds?_

Fushimi hated that he was actually considering it.

He hadn’t gotten off with anyone since… since Mi-

“Yes, okay, fuck it,” he bit out.

Munakata’s expression brightened, and it really wasn’t fair that childish glee made him look insanely good and not just insane.

“Indeed? Then I thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Fushimi.”

Fushimi couldn’t bite back the grimace. “Could you at least not be _weird_ about it?”

Munakata paused where he had been unbuttoning their pants. “Weird?”

“Yeah-“ A gasp cut him off as the warmth of Munakata’s hand drew him out of his boxers. “All the… all the formal crap. It’s weird.”

“Then I will attempt to rectify that. Should I call you Saruhiko instead?”

He barely heard the question. Munakata had generated a thin layer of aura on his hand, and the sensation was like nothing Fushimi had felt before. He could still feel the warmth of Munakata’s hand and every callus built from handling his sword, but it worked him smoother than any lube he’d ever tried and prickled with the leashed power.

“Shit, do what you want just – just don’t stop doing that.”

Fire was building under his skin, familiar as the red aura but so different. Fushimi dug his nails into the ground, uncaring about the dirt undoubtedly burying itself under his nails. His head thudded back as his hips tried to push up into Munakata’s hand, pinned by his weight.

Reishi’s hand left him, and Fushimi couldn’t stop the immediate snarl.

“Hush, Saruhiko,” Reishi soothed, “be patient a moment.”

A line of pure heat was pressed against his cock, punching a breath out of him. Raising his head, Fushimi watched as Reishi enveloped both their cocks in his hand, getting them both off at the same time.

It was too much to keep watching; he could feel their slickness making the glide easier, could feel Reishi’s thighs tightening and relaxing around him as he worked them both up. Restless sparks were starting to gather again in his stomach, nerves firing haphazardly and shooting shudders up his spine. Reishi paused in his steady rhythm, thumb tracing circles around the head of their cocks.

Fushimi nearly choked, hands jumping to clutch at Reishi’s thighs, as lances of white-hot pleasure wracked him with each pass. It was too much, and not nearly enough. He just needed a little more, just a tiny shove, it was torture hanging on this precipice.

He didn’t realize that he was speaking aloud until Reishi laughed, a shakier sound than normal, and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“I’m nearly there too, Saruhiko. You’re just enthralling; it’s marvelous you’re letting me do this.”

“Sh-shut up,” Fushimi tried to snap. If Reishi kept talking, he’d hit the edge much too quickly.

“Do you really wish me to? I think it would be more satisfying if I didn’t. And besides, I enjoy telling you how much I appreciate you.”

Reishi went back to his smooth stroking, somewhat faster and impatient now.

“Fuck,” Fushimi hissed out. “Rei-Muna… Munakata, come on, just fucking hurry up already.”

“Hmm, I don’t think quite yet.” He stopped, holding the bases of their cocks firmly. “Don’t you think you should return the favor? I’m using your given name, don’t you think you should use mine?”

The stillness was going to kill him. Fushimi lay there, gasping, trying to process Reishi’s request. Clicking his tongue, he swallowed, darting his eyes away as he quietly said: “Reishi.”

A single stroke was his reward. Then Reishi paused again, watching him with an expression of pleased expectation.

Embarrassment swept through Fushimi, nearly as strong as the arousal already flooding his body. Reishi was going to make him say his name until he came, or until it got boring.

Reishi didn’t get bored though.

Clicking his tongue again, Fushimi said again, “Reishi.” He gasped as, this time, the stroke including a flick over the sensitive head.

The embarrassment was fading now, swept away by the rising tide of his need to come. He let his head fall back to the ground, giving his mouth free reign to keep talking, keep saying Reishi’s name, keep doing whatever it took so that Reishi wouldn’t fucking stop _again_.

“Reishi, Reishi, please, come on, you ass, _Reishi_ …”

“Saruhiko…”

Reishi’s hand didn’t stop its smooth motions, not even when Fushimi sucked in a breath, holding it as pleasure rocked his body, nails biting into Reishi’s tense thighs, cock pulsing as fire chased itself along his nerves, encouraged by Reishi’s relentless stroking, pearlescent come streaking his muddied uniform.

Panting, head hazy and blood rushing in his ears, Fushimi barely noticed when Reishi released him to near frantically pull at himself, tensing until he came as well, toppling forwards until their faces were close enough Fushimi thought Reishi would kiss him.

Until Reishi sighed and sat back up, shifting so he could slide off of him and sit on the dirt instead of his subordinate.

“I hope that was as satisfactory for you as I found it, Mr. Fushimi. Though I must apologize about the mess.”

Fushimi wrinkled his nose at what his uniform must look like, but he found he couldn’t regret it.

“It was passable, sir.” Struggling to sit up, Fushimi caught sight of his uniform. It looked like he had rolled around in the mud. Though, that was probably better than looking like he was fucked in the mud. He could excuse the mess with training with the Captain. No one needed to know what that training consisted of.

“Passable?” Munakata laughed quietly, the same amused smile on his face that always appeared when Fushimi as insubordinate. “I suppose I shall take that as a compliment, from you.”

“Take it as whatever you want.” Fushimi finally made it to his feet, pulling his clothes back to some idea of order. “I’m going to take a shower, and do laundry. You can make my excuses to Awashima.”

“Ah, I suppose that is only fair,” Munakata agreed, joining Fushimi on his feet. “I would be interested in discussing how you shifted the aura on your blade, when you have a moment.”

Fushimi shrugged. “Not that hard, I just switched the two auras between my sword and knives.”

“Fascinating.”

“Not really.” He started walking back towards the dorms. “Feel free to not bother me with training again any time soon.”

“If you so wish,” Munakata conceded, following him. “Though with such pleasurable results…”

Fushimi clicked his tongue yet again. “Whatever. Do as you wish, I certainly don’t care.”

“Well then, Saruhiko,” Munakata caught Fushimi’s hand, bending over it to place a kiss on its back, “I look forwards to our next sparring session.”

He couldn’t help flushing, and Fushimi pulled his hand away. “Whatever… Reishi,” he muttered, then hurried into the dorms.

He was sure his Captain was smiling stupidly after him.

 

 


End file.
